Shit in the Sky

I never thought I’d be one of them. I still don’t think I am, but there I am standing at the bar, grinning my face, nodding my head–like the idiot I am. I remember when I worked shit jobs when I was younger. When I saw those people then–I didn’t necessarily think ill of ‘em but, I didn’t ever think that I’d be one them. Guess I was fucking wrong. This stupid shit that I’m wearing–this stupid night–stupid, stupid, stupid fucking stupid shit. What I’m talking about–specifically–if you already judged me that fast–you goddamn bastard–is just hanging out with the people you work with. You know? And if you don’t know then–honestly, fuck off, just blow me, but yeah–being a part of the work crowd–is what I mean. Doing that shitty dance. Work politics, coffee break gossiping, all that shit. That, “Susan said this,” dumb cunt shit, that, “Jerry fucks this,” dumb ass shit. And worse of all, is that most of the time, the shit isn’t even that interesting–it’s the same level of shit that you already knew better than to not partake in when you were in fucking middle school. That’s this shit–It really is just that shitty. And though I say this, it’s this same shit that I’m doing right now. Fuck that shit.

They say that suicide rates worldwide hits a mean somewhere around middleage or older. I guess that’s just when most people do it–as in, finally–am I right? I think that’s what it is. People just hold on for all those years just to see if they can make it through. And so that, when they fucking don’t, they just jump off the bridge. Or, fall asleep in their car, shoot their heads off with a shotgun, headbutt the sidewalk, eat a bottle of pills–whatever. They say that people are more likely to off themselves if they are single, as well–and probably because, single people got no one to guilt them out of it. It’s gotta be somewhat easier to kill yourself if you’re single. Right? It’d be much harder otherwise. Personally, I figure that if you’re gonna do it–you know, and I mean–barring the rare, freak tragedies–the kinds that land people outside of the fucking theme park, and not just, “throw them off the rails”–so to speak, if you get what i’m saying–if you’re gonna do it, though, if you’re gonna unplug your shit one day, then chances are more than good it’s something you’d thought about for a long time coming. I’m not a suicide researcher. I’m just a human being.

I think I’ll do it one day. Couple decades from now. Probably. I think I’ll do it by then. Yeah. But not now, though. I got plenty of time. I don’t care how shity it gets now–I’m too jaded to get that upset with life now. Life is just a big, huge sinking piece of shit, surging down from the sky, coming down to fuck up my day. That’s life. That’s all it is. And that’s no so bad. I get dumped on by that shit all day fucking day–NBD. It’s like I said, a couple decades from now–that’s when I’ll do it, if I’m gonna do it.

Because I don’t see my shit ever getting better. You know. That’s why I say this. Because I really do fear whatever the fuck it is that I’ll end up being one day–down the road–when it happens–Damn. That shit gives me nightmares. The only comfort I got in me is just my knowing that I can always turn the shit off if it ever gets unbearable. I call that, solace. Whatever–

I’m fucking melodramatic, man. Truth is I wouldn’t have the guts to do it. I’ll just keep on hugging the falling shit from the sky good morning for the rest of my life. I’ll live until I die.